by Joni Hahn
“What’s up, Mitchell?”
Riordan had Mitchell up on the video conference screen. He sat at the same desk he’d occupied with Natalie the night before. Her scent still permeated the room, her empty ice cream carton on the seat of the chair.
He’d royally screwed up last night. Things had gotten out of hand and he’d done nothing to stop it. Then again, with an eager Natalie Meeks in his arms, what sane man would be strong enough?
“We’ve uncovered some information I thought you’d want to hear. Max has had a helluva time with intel on your identity theft. Whoever’s behind it knows what they’re doing and has money to back it up.”
“If the same people paid Naylor to get rid of me, I’m sure he didn’t do the job for cheap.” Riordan couldn’t keep the snide tone from his voice. “Have you asked Rose?”
“Saint, Rose had nothing to do with your disappearance.”
Riordan gritted his teeth. Why would Mitchell defend him when the proof was in his file? “Whatever you say.”
Mitchell remained silent for several seconds. “What we also have to consider is your mother’s role in this.”
Surprise straightened his spine. “My mother?”
“She had your name changed when you were two years old.”
Shock barraged him, leaving him motionless. “What the hell did you just say?”
“Your mother filed papers changing her legal name, and yours, to St. James.”
What the freaking hell?
He jumped up to pace. “Who the hell am I, then? Really?”
Mitchell shook his head. “We can’t uncover your birth records. There is no legal record of it anywhere.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “That makes no damned sense, Mitchell. We lived in a rathole mobile home, in a rundown, Sacramento trailer park. We had no money to pay for something like that.”
“What about your father?”
Riordan stopped to stare at the screen. “My father? I have no freaking clue who he is. My mother said he was a summer fling.”
“We could run DNA tests…”
Hell. Did he want to know? Then again, if he did, it would give him an opportunity to beat the shit out of him for leaving her alone to raise him.
“I don’t care, Mitchell. I really don’t give a shit. What I do care about is now. I want my identity back and I want the imposter to pay.”
“Your imposter works at Powers International. He’s a V.P. of Operations.”
Riordan stopped in his tracks, hands on hips. “You’re just full of useful information today. How did he manage a vice president position in a company like that?”
Mitchell shrugged. “I’m leaving that up to you to find out.”
Riordan gave a brief nod. Damned right, he’d find out. He’d also make the sonovabitch pay.
“Which brings me to Natalie Meeks, Saint...”
Meeks. Sexy as hell, she had to be the best freaking kisser on the planet. Crazy, intense passion bubbled under the surface of that conservative façade. He had every intention of unleashing it soon.
“She’s cleared you for your enhancements. I’ll have her recommendation today. As soon as Clint’s ready for you, I’ll bring you back to headquarters.”
Cleared him? No freaking way.
Riordan spread out his hands in front of him. “Hold up a minute. How can she make that call so soon?”
Mitchell shrugged. “I asked her that myself. Do you have any idea why she’d do something like that?”
Asshole. He and Mitchell both knew why she’d done it.
She was running again.
Riordan grabbed his motorcycle helmet off the desk where he’d left it the night before. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Mitchell.”
“And, here I thought it was one of my strengths.”
Pulling on his jacket, Riordan headed out of the room. “No, that would be mayhem. You freaking rock mayhem.”
#####
“Natalie.”
Still stunned by Mitchell’s closing words, she whipped around in her chair. John Warner stood just inside her door, looking polished and professional, as usual. Paul’s brother came by to check on her regularly. After several months, most people would’ve lost interest in following up with her.
John still came by twice a week, if not more often.
“Hi, John.” Tucking her phone in her suit pocket, she rose and gave him a hug.
“Josie said you were alone.” He nodded at her pocket. “Tough call?”
She tried to smile. “Yes. But, it’s over now.” She motioned for him to sit on the sofa. “What brings you by today?”
Smiling, he pointed above his head. “I have a meeting at the insurance company upstairs. I thought I’d arrive early and stop in.” He reached over and took her hand. “I can never see too much of you, Natalie.”
Sighing inside, she slowly pulled her hand from his grasp. Mixed signals had been a problem between them for the last few months. She had no interest in John as anything other than a friend. However, after what he’d been through with Paul’s death, she didn’t want to alienate him completely. She seemed to serve a purpose in his life and wanted to be there if he needed someone.
“Speaking of meetings,” she said, “I have one prior to the Warner board meeting next week. So, I’ll meet you there. No need for you to pick me up.”
Since Paul had left his entire estate to her, she’d inherited his board position at Warner Management Companies. The company had seen a significant decline in revenue since Paul’s death. They’d stopped construction on their new, downtown office building until the company got back on its feet. John and his staff had been working hard to bring it back to income levels they’d seen prior to Paul’s demise.
“Very well,” John said. “Perhaps, you’d do me the honor of accompanying me to your father’s fundraiser in two weeks? We could do drinks with him afterward, at my place.”
After what had happened last night with Riordan, the idea of sitting through one of her father’s fundraisers and making polite conversation, seemed exhausting. All she wanted to do was go home, grab a carton of ice cream and catch up on episodes of Revolution.
She needed to get back her life.
No men allowed.
Right now, Riordan St. James sat center stage in her mind, disrupting her thoughts, her work, her routine. All she could think about was his strong hands caressing her breasts, his lips brushing against her neck, his kiss driving her to the edge of delirium, then pulling away.
John snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Earth to Natalie...”
Her gaze darted to him.
As for John Warner, she had to get through to him that she wanted nothing more than a purely platonic relationship.
Rising from the sofa, she went to her desk and picked up her cold coffee. She grimaced.
“John, I-“
“Is that cold?” He jumped up from the sofa.
Nodding, she gave him a slight smile.
With a flirtatious gleam in his eyes, he took it from her. His fingers lingered on her hand a tad longer than necessary before he clutched the cup between his palms. He moved in close to her.
“Let me warm that for you, sweetheart.”
Natalie swallowed hard. For a minute there, she’d thought he’d try to kiss her. The idea made her physically sick.
She took a deep breath. “John, we need-“
Her office door flew open. Riordan appeared in the entry, windblown, determined and… utterly gorgeous.
Snug, faded jeans hugged his narrow hips, his shoulders enormous in the black leather motorcycle jacket. His stylish, blonde hair stood in disarray, his helmet in his hand.
A storm brewed in his pale eyes as he took in John and his close proximity. Guilt sprang to life in her belly, rooting her to the spot.
Riordan sauntered over to her with one of those knee-weakening, arrogant smiles. Swooping in, he kissed her on the lips like he had every right to do so.
J
ohn stood no more than a foot away.
“Hi, baby.” His voice held a low, seductive tone.
How dare he walk in like he owned her and the place? She shoved him to arm’s length.
“Who’s your friend, Natalie?” John’s hard gaze locked on Riordan, her coffee cup still in his hands.
Turning to John, Riordan grinned and held out his hand. “Riordan St. James.”
John’s eyes widened before he slipped the cup to one hand. When their palms met, Riordan snatched away his hand. He glanced down at his palm before looking up at John.
John gave a superior smirk. Riordan narrowed his eyes before lowering his hand to his side.
“Here you go, Natalie.” John held out her coffee.
Riordan blocked her. “No, Meeks. Don’t touch that.”
Frowning, she reached past him. “Riordan, don’t be silly.” Taking her cup, she took a sip. “Mmm, hot.” She smiled at John. “How did you do that?”
He shrugged with nonchalance. “What can I say? I’m a hot guy.” Bypassing Riordan, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
Riordan’s shoulders tensed.
Really? Natalie wanted to groan aloud. They were trying to mark her as their territory. Next thing she knew, they’d each pee in the corner of her office.
“I’ve got to go. I’ll see you next week.” Without a word to Riordan, John walked out of her office.
Riordan glared daggers at his back. “I don’t like him.”
Shocker.
“What are you doing here?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ve been cleared for duty.”
Looking back at her, he tossed his helmet on the sofa before mimicking her stance. “Yeah, Mitchell told me. You must be one helluva doctor to determine I’m fit for duty so quickly.”
She kidded no one. “Last night shouldn’t have happened, Riordan. I’m putting an end to this before-“
His fingertips skimmed the line of her jaw to settle on her chin. “Before things really get out of hand?” His thumb grazed her lips.
She swallowed hard. Step away, Natalie. Get back.
“No. I won’t allow it, Riordan. A relationship between you and I would be highly unethical.”
Damn him for whipping out that smile again. “I’m not your patient any longer.”
With a toss of her chin, she stepped away from his hypnotizing touch. “You were my patient. That’s all that matters. My professional reputation is at stake.”
Tell him about Paul.
Shaking her head, she walked away. What had happened between her and Paul had been a mistake, too. She never should’ve gotten involved with him. Looking back, theirs had been more of a friendship with lukewarm sexual benefits.
There was nothing lukewarm about Riordan St. James. He’d blown into her life like an inferno, hot, roaring and lethal. Her body remained on high alert in his vicinity, poised, ready to drop on the nearest flat surface at the snap of a finger.
Or flat against a wall.
Or on his lap.
Stop it, Natalie. She pounded her fist against her forehead.
“Through beating up yourself?” He stood behind her now, his scent of spicy musk weaving around her in a cloud of masculine temptation.
“My father says you’re dangerous.”
She felt him back away.
“Your fa-“
He cursed low, his offensive words sounding louder, then faint, telling her he paced.
He stopped. She whipped around.
Staring at her, he gave a sarcastic harrumph. “I get it, Meeks.”
Reaching for his helmet, he curled a hand around the rim. “You’ve had second thoughts. I’m way too lowly for the likes of a Senator’s daughter. What would it do to his reputation?”
Her mouth dropped open, heat warming her face. “Wait, just-”
“But, you know what, Meeks? I’m making something of myself. I’m a soon-to-be super-agent for the most elite private security agency in the world.”
He held up four fingers. “I’m one of four. Four men in the world on that super squad.” He gave a half laugh. “But I’ll never be good enough, will I? I won’t be a John Warner.”
She reached for him. Holding up his hands, he backed away from her.
“Riordan, how could you think that after last night?”
“Save it, Meeks. Last night, you asked me to let you in and against my better judgment, I did.” He gave a bitter laugh. “It looks like I should’ve trusted my gut after all.”
Guilt knifed through her middle, sharp and twisted. She had begged him to let her in. He’d given her his rare and delicate trust and she’d tossed it back in his face.
“Riordan, trust has nothing to do with my decision.”
Glaring at her, he said, “The hell it doesn’t. You told me you wanted to help me. You told me you weren’t a runner. You told me, with your body, you wanted me.”
Heat suffused her face.
He opened her office door. “You lied. Plain and simple.” He lowered his voice. “Last night was fun, Meeks. You excited the hell out of me.”
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The bastard. He knew Josie sat in the reception area.
“How dare you-?”
“No, Meeks. How dare you.”
Chapter 6
“Well, if it isn’t the new bi-poler agent.”
Aidan Monroe grinned at Riordan, Tristan Jacobs and Dar Naylor on his tail. It was the first day he could have visitors after the installation of his new enhancements. His D.I.R.E. hospital room resembled Grand Central Station.
Not only had his new teammates stopped in to see him, Clint Robinson had come by to take a look at his new armbands. Doug, one of Clint’s assistants, stood across the room beside a steel cart filled with magnetic objects.
The circus was about to begin.
His new hands could create a north and south magnetic pole, allowing him to attract, repel and bend any ferrous materials he chose.
Leave it to the ex-girlfriend’s main squeeze to take a jab at him.
Holding out his hand toward the cart, Riordan concentrated on a large wrench sitting on top. It rose and hovered above the cart, causing Doug’s eyes to widen. It shot past Aidan’s head and into Riordan’s outstretched hand. Aidan’s gaze darted to him.
“You were saying?” Riordan gave him a wily grin.
“Holy shit.” Dar’s eyes were as wide as Doug’s a moment before.
“You’ve been practicing.” Eyebrows high on his forehead, Clint smiled as he checked the areas on Riordan’s forearms where his armbands fused into his central nervous system.
Riordan nodded toward the drawer of his bedside table. “Yeah, I think the cafeteria’s going to need more flatware.”
Tristan went to the bedside table and opened the drawer. Riordan knew at least fifty or so pieces of mangled and twisted flatware lay in the drawer.
“Damn, looks like pizza and burgers in the cafeteria for a while,” Tristan said.
Aidan’s voice held a teasing lilt. “I’ve only seen shit like that in movies where people are possessed. We may need to call in a parapsychologist… or a priest.”
“I heard he’s seeing a smokin’ psychologist already.” Leaning his forearms on the bedside table, Dar snatched a strawberry from a bowl and popped it into his mouth. “From the way Rose talks, she’s sweet enough to cure him.”
Betrayal warred with melancholy inside Riordan. It’d been three days since he walked out of Natalie’s office. He’d missed her every freaking second, which irritated the shit out of him. How that could happen when he’d spent less than a week with her, went beyond his understanding.
He should’ve known better than to trust her. The need, the desire to trust her had felt so strong that he’d given into the temptation. He’d told himself that she was different. That he lived in a new world now, where people – she - could be trusted.
Instead, she’d proven his old beliefs valid. He could trust no one but himself.<
br />
“The senator’s daughter didn’t want to have anything to do with the likes of me, Naylor.”
Tristan raised his head from where he studied the computer screen on one of Riordan’s armbands. “What do you mean ‘the likes of you’? You’re part of this elite team now, Saint. I’d like to see her top that.”
Riordan swallowed hard. Now, he had to learn to trust the men standing before him. Trained agents that would have his back regardless of the circumstances.
He knew he’d have their backs in any given situation. However, try as he might to believe it, he needed proof of their loyalty.
Mitchell walked in, phone in hand. “I gave Saint strict orders to leave Natalie alone.”
A chorus of groans echoed in the room.
“What?” Mitchell held up his hands.
Aidan crossed his arms over his chest. “Mitchell, you told every one of us to stay away from the woman we’re now engaged to.” His gaze went to Riordan. “Just ignore him, Saint.”
Mitchell glared at Monroe before his gaze shot to Riordan. “You’d damn well better listen to me. Her father is a senator. That’s an entirely different animal from these clowns. They’re lucky the girls settled for them.”
Good-natured grumbling surrounded him.
“Why is it different, Mitchell?” Riordan blurted it before he realized his brain had acted.
Lowering his phone, Mitchell gave him a laser-sharp stare. “Because he can cause trouble for you.”
Pulling in his lips over his teeth, he nodded. “Like he has in the past?”
Mitchell crossed his arms over his chest. “Has he?”
Riordan shrugged. “Natalie said he told her I was dangerous. I’m just wondering how he knew that. Sure, I worked for Naylor but, I work for you now. Doesn’t he trust your judgment?”
After a long moment, Riordan realized he’d get no response.
Dammit.
“Okay, Saint,” Clint said. “Let’s give this a try.” Backing away to give Riordan room to rise, Clint motioned for the others to step back against the wall.
Clint nodded at Riordan’s hand. “Lay the wrench on the bed.”
Riordan set it on the mattress, at his fingertips.
Nodding, Clint said, “I want you to hold your hand above it and make it hover between you and the bed.”